Path Unraveled
by Lady Ani
Summary: A twist of fate means Patrick never sailed on the Titanic. The same night they become engaged sees Mary meet a handsome blond stranger who is undeniably beneath her. Will Mary go through with her wedding or are some loves just meant to be?
1. Chapter 1

_June, 1912_

"And so, it gives me great pleasure to announce the engagement of my daughter, Lady Mary Crawley, to my cousin and heir, Mr. Patrick Crawley. Please join me in wishing them a long and happy life together." The Earl of Grantham raised his glass of champagne and toasted the young couple beside him as the room filled with polite applause and much more commentary.

"Poor Mr. Patrick Crawley," the Lady Honoria Ashton said, gazing towards the front of the room where the newly affianced couple was receiving well wishes. "He could have done much better than her."

"You mean with the likes of you?" asked her companion, a Miss Isabelle Winston, who might have been called beautiful if it were not for the shrewish expression of her eyes. "Please credit the gentleman with _some_ taste, my dear Honoria."

The voluptuous blonde sniffed. "Well, he doesn't look very happy, does he?" she asked, watching as Mary suffered to have her cheek kissed by old Mrs. Brampton while Mr. Brampton pumped Patrick's arm with enthusiasm. Both were smiling properly, but it did not require a very attentive observer to note the bored look in the lady's eyes, nor the way the couple's bodies were angled away from each other.

"You seem inordinately concerned. I do hope you're not planning to offer Mr. Crawley some comfort later."

"And so what if I am?"

"My dear!" exclaimed Isabelle, forgetting her champagne to stare in dismay at her friend. "You cannot be serious!"

Honoria said nothing, merely tipped her head defiantly and began to move towards the couple of the hour. Isabelle hurried after her, attempting to stop her friend.

"Have you lost your mind?" she hissed, trying not to draw attention to the pair. "He is not even that handsome, his income is merely average, and he may not come into the title for many years yet."

Honoria finally turned, batting away Isabelle's arm in annoyance. "He's tolerable and sweet enough, but don't be a fool. I'm not doing this for him. It's her. She's so cold and heartless, I just hate to see her so happy. But don't worry, I won't make a fool of myself, not yet." Without waiting for a response, she spun around again and hurried her way to the front.

~x*~x~*x~

Most evenings were bad enough, but there was something especially tedious about this one, Mary noted as yet more supposed friends came forward to exclaim over her good fortune. She had expected to enjoy the evening, anticipated that she'd quite like being the center of attention, but as the minutes wore on, she felt increasingly trapped by the insincere well-wishes, the false excitement, the need to keep up a smile in pretense she was enjoying the moment. If one more person noted that they were a well-matched couple, she would scratch the smile off of their face.

There was a momentary lull as the Taylors moved on and Cora appeared by Mary's side. Her smile appeared much more joyous and genuine than her daughter's as she surveyed the room and prided herself on one fait accomplit. Her most stubborn of daughters was finally engaged; now she could turn her attention to Edith.

"A wonderful turnout, isn't it, darling?" she beamed. "Everyone who is anyone is here, including that lovely Lord Hervey. Perhaps he may become interested in Edith."

Mary raised a doubtful eyebrow. "A future Marquess? Surely even you can't believe that is a possibility for Edith, Mama."

"Perhaps not," Cora conceded. "Maybe he will still be available when Sybil makes her debut next year." With this cheering thought in mind, she peered more closely at her daughter. "Are you alright, darling? You don't look like a happy, blushing fiancée."

"What is there to be so pleased about when it's only been expected for the past ten years?"

Cora's smile faltered a bit. "It's a good match for you—and you agreed. Everyone is looking at you. You must try to look a bit more pleased."

"Couldn't I claim a headache and escape?"

"Your own engagement ball, darling?" Cora asked, attempting to not look overly horrified. "You know how everyone would talk."

"Oh, let them talk," Mary snapped. "My hand is already claimed for, so what does it matter if people gossip? I'm surely not interesting enough for it to last beyond a week." She waved down a passing footman with additional glasses of champagne and toasted her mother. "You've done your duty by me and gotten my neck in the noose, Mama, so you can wash your hands of me now."

Cora sighed and conceded defeat. When her daughter was in such a mood, there was no way to stop her; she would simply do whatever she wanted to do. "Just dance with Patrick once, please," she pleaded, "and for heaven's sake, be discrete when you leave."

~x*~x~*x~

It required a mere half-hour and Lady Mary had successfully extracted herself from the ball being held in her honor. She had danced with her fiancé once, flirted with a few other lords, and then ensured everyone saw her disappear onto the balcony with her cousin in tow. From there, it was a simple matter to sneak upstairs and to trust Patrick to be discrete upon his return to the ballroom. If nothing else, she had to appreciate her cousin's malleable temper and his agreeability when it came to her plans.

She was now stood atop the stairs, her hand on the banister, listening to the noises of the crowds below. The musicians were playing another cheerful tune and the guests, well oiled by endless fountains of drinks her father had supplied, were boisterous and happy as ever. She doubted her absence would be much missed.

She hurried down the hall and into her room, where she rang for Anna, who appeared unsurprised to be summoned at so early an hour. The ever-faithful maid helped her out of her dress and, without a word, into another, a deep blue gown not nearly so fine as the others in the wardrobe. With a few quick twists, her hair was also changed into a simpler style before Anna's deft fingers removed the jewels about her neck. Looking at herself in the mirror, with the slight flush of excitement upon her cheek, Mary acknowledged that she hardly looked like the same woman whose engagement had been announced downstairs mere hours before.

As quietly as possible, she followed Anna down the servant's stairs and out the back door where a cab stood waiting, Mr. Carson beside it. He gave her a grim and unhappy look, but stoically said nothing as he helped her into the car. She caught one last glimpse of his knitted eyebrows before the cab glided smoothly down the street. Carson might be disapproving, but she wasn't worried; she knew she had him wrapped around her little finger and he would never give her away.

Settling back into the poorly upholstered seat, she breathed deeply, enjoying the London night air and allowed the tension to leave her body. It felt good to be outdoors, away from the tedious press back at her home. She knew what she was doing was dangerous – Carson had repeatedly tried to convince her to bring an escort – and yet, as an anonymous woman in a nondescript cab, she felt a world of endless possibilities opening up before her. As a lady used to the strict confines of societal expectations, it was a heady, addictive feeling.

The cab stopped before a music hall where lights and music and the sound of laughter spilled out the door. Mary stood a moment in front of the building, gazing up at the broad façade bearing large posters and adorned with plaster statues and gaudy colored lamps, wondering what sort of people awaited her inside, before bravely squaring her shoulders and marching in. Smoke and the scent of many bodies pressed together assaulted her nose as soon as she did.

The interior was much as Mary could have expected from the exterior, with tarnished looking glasses, gilded trellis work, and faded upholstery that once perhaps was crimson. It was not Mary's first time within a music hall, but she had only been escorted to a few suitable ones, located near Leicester Square, and was unfamiliar with the more bourgeois variety.

Uncertain what to do, Mary surged forward, searching for an empty stall. On stage, a dancer was contorting her body in time to the music, striking a few impressive poses, but with no fluidity to her movements. The music itself was loud but forgettable and perhaps it should have been no surprise that a few of the awkward young shop clerks began to glance in Mary's direction, more interested in the unescorted lady with the haughty bearing than the performance on the stage. It was with no little relief when Mary located an unclaimed stall, though the drinks on the table indicated it hadn't been vacated too long ago.

Settling into the seat – Mary uttered a quick prayer that the place was not too unclean – Mary observed the others attendees with interest. A family with three girls had claimed the stall next to hers and she watched with amusement as the two eldest subtly nudged and pinched each other while seemingly paying rapt attention to the performance and the youngest remained oblivious throughout. _It seems_, Mary mused, _sisters are the same the world over._ A few tables over, a young man in an ill-fitting suit was smoking and shooting her obvious glances. Mary shot him her most quelling look and trusted her haughtiness would stand her in good stead, even here.

It seemed she had waited hours before a man came hurrying to her stall. He was a good-looking young man and Mary spent a moment admiring his broad shoulders, his gleaming blond hair, his bright blue eyes. Assuming he was her waiter, she was about to place an order when he spoke first.

"Look," he told her coldly, "I don't know what game you think you are playing, pushing yourself into my stall, but I know the type of woman you are and I assure you I am not interested."

~x*~x~*x~

A/N: So should I continue?


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Thank you for all your reviews of the first chapter! I so appreciate every review and would thank each of you individually if only I could figure out how to get PM working for me. But in the meantime, please know how grateful I am for the kind reception! Hope this new chapter doesn't disappoint…

~x*~x~*x~

The music continued unabated, but Mary hardly noticed the sounds as she stared at the stranger before her, rendered speechless for one of the few times in her life. For a moment her hand twitched towards the abandoned glasses on the table, ready to hurl a drink at his head to teach him a lesson or two about impertinence before she recalled she was a lady. _Not that anyone seems to realize, in this sort of place, _she thought, but restrained herself all the same from making a scene.

Instead she stood, drawing herself up to her not-unsubstantial height and turning upon him the full force of her glare. As she did so, he had the opportunity to observe her plain but obviously well-cut dress and jacket, her fine gloves, and her elegant carriage and perhaps a few other points of her appearance. His eyes widened perceptibly, and his expression became sheepish. Mary would have smirked at his embarrassment if she weren't afraid it would encourage him.

"You are obviously no gentleman, and I will not even deign to reply to such an insult," she hissed at him, somehow managing the impression of looking down upon him though he stood taller than her. She made to leave, but the area was small and she found the unknown man still blocking her way. "If you will excuse me…"

"I am most sorry for what I said. Won't you stay and allow me to procure you a drink by way of apology?" he asked quickly.

She raised one perfectly sculpted eyebrow. "And risk being suspected of manipulating this whole encounter as a scheme to push my way in? I'm afraid I must decline that pleasure." Though her words were said in a perfectly polite, friendly tone, he did not miss the steel in her voice or the venom in her eyes and took an involuntary step back.

His movement gave Mary the opportunity she needed to sweep out of the stall and back towards the front door, convinced, as she went, that her every prejudice about the middle class was entirely justified. She had been hoping for an escape, a few hours away from her perfectly planned existence in her lovely gilded cage, but this was obviously not the correct locale. _What a perfect end to a perfect evening_, she thought bitterly.

Meanwhile, her new acquaintance was still hurrying after her. "Please, won't you stop?" he called out after her. "It was a mistake, a joke. I hope you didn't take it seriously."

Annoyed at his persistence, Mary turned to face him. "Of course, it was absolutely a joke. Anything to ease your conscience. Now if you would stop following after me, we can consider ourselves even so we need never see each other again."

She swung around and nearly collided with the familiar form of their family chauffeur as she did so. "Taylor, whatever are you doing here?" she exclaimed, stumbling a little in her surprise.

The servant's face was impassive as ever as he reached out to steady her automatically. "Lady Mary, are you quite alright?" he asked, ignoring her question.

"Yes, quite," she said, glancing over her shoulder to observe the man had stopped an arm's length away and was opening and closing his mouth a few times indeterminately, as if uncertain whether it was wise to speak again. "I think it's time to go. I've had enough excitement for the evening."

~x*~x~*x~

To Mary's relief, her return home was entirely uneventful. As few of the music hall's patrons owned a car, and those who did had little inclination to put it to such frivolous use, Taylor had been able to leave the Crawley's car nearby. He offered to bring it around directly in front of the doors, but Mary assured him she could walk the few steps. She was eager to be out of the building and to give the stranger no more opportunity to accost her alone.

The lights were still burning brightly when they returned to Grantham House, and the sound of music, dancing feet and conversation reached Mary's ears as Taylor handed her out near the back door. She was grateful for the noise giving cover to the hum of the car engine and, though she was loath to admit it, also for Taylor's presence at the music hall, which she assumed was Carson's doing.

"I know I've no right to ask, but I'd be very grateful if you didn't mention this to his lordship," she said as they stood in the courtyard, squirming a bit on the inside at the need to ask this favor.

She was able to see the chauffeur's wry look by the faint light of the moon. "I won't," he assured her. "Carson's already promised 'e'd 'ave me guts fer garters if I dare breathe a word to anyone."

Mary smiled. Good old Carson, always a step ahead. A part of her was annoyed that he had trusted her so little as to send someone to watch over her – she most certainly had not needed any assistance – and yet another part of her was very thankful for his thoughtful deed.

And, she thought, he had not been alone in his kindness. She stopped before the door, turned back. "Taylor," she called, causing him to pause from climbing into his driver's seat. "Thank you." Then she hurriedly disappeared inside.

~x*~x~*x~

Though she slept poorly, dreams haunted by rude young men with piercing blue eyes, Mary was only a little late to breakfast the next morning. Lord Grantham smiled warmly at her as she entered. Patrick, who had elected to spend the night rather than return to his own London lodging, grunted a greeting from behind his newspaper.

"You look awful," Edith observed as soon as Mary had served herself some fruit and sat down.

"Thank you, Edith. I knew I could always depend on you for a tedious remark," Mary retorted, though her tone lacked her usual bite.

"I'm only concerned, Mary. It surely can't be due to staying up, can it, as you disappeared from the ball so early."

"I see as usual no men-"

"Mary wasn't feeling well," Patrick interrupted calmly without bothering to lower his paper. "I suggested she retire early. I do hope your headache is gone, Mary?"

"Yes, quite," Mary replied faintly. She was grateful to Patrick for his interference, but also very confused. He had never been particularly solicitous towards her in the past and she knew not what to make of his behaviour.

"How was the ball?" Sybil interjected brightly, almost bouncing in her seat in excitement. "Oh, I do wish I could have attended. Did you enjoy yourself?"

"I suppose," Mary said. "There was nothing remarkable about last night." She speared a nectarine slice with an air of disinterest.

Lord Grantham looked up from the letter he had been reading. "Don't be so modest, my dear. The occasion was certainly something special, wouldn't you say? You must be quite pleased with how the night went off."

"Oh, I'm sure Mary doesn't see it that way," Edith muttered.

"What do you mean by that?" Lord Grantham asked sharply.

"Nothing," said Edith, who genuinely had not thought through her insult and had merely spoken it in an attempt to get a rise out of Mary. She withdrew into her breakfast, abashed, and the meal concluded in silence.

Afterwards, Sybil followed Mary to her room and installed herself comfortably upon Mary's bed, observing as her older sister settled at her vanity table to begin her morning routine.

"Come Mary, now that we're alone, you must let me know all about last night."

Mary shrugged as she examined herself critically in the mirror, turning her head this way and that to check her skin for blemishes. "There's not much to tell. It's as I said at breakfast – a dreadfully dull affair."

"But there were so many people in attendance, surely you must have spoken to someone interesting."

The look Mary gave Sybil at that statement was far more expressive of her opinion than any words she could utter. "No, there was no one fascinating to meet at the ball," she murmured after a while, now carefully rubbing lotion into her face. "But I did have my cheek kissed three times by the Duchess of Rutland. The doddering old fool couldn't remember that she'd already congratulated me each time. I hope her husband finds the sense to leave this world soon, so we needn't endure her much longer."

"That's not very kind," Sybil reproached, but she couldn't hold back a giggle. "I suppose, now that you are off the market, all the young men must have deserted you for Edith."

"Is that really likely?" Mary scoffed, before turning to face her sister, suddenly serious. "It'll be your turn soon enough, and I must warn you, Sybil darling, that Mama already has set her eye upon Lord Hervey for you."

Sybil tilted her head in consideration. "Is he the future Marquess that Edith likes?"

"Yes, though even Mama concedes there is a better chance of you landing him."

"Well, Mama better not get her hopes up. I'd be just as likely to marry our chauffeur as to marry him."

"Not Taylor surely," Mary replied with a sardonic glance. "I'd advise you to wait until he retires and is replaced with someone younger at least before you consider running off with the servants."

"I'm serious," Sybil insisted, eyes wide with sincerity. "You know as well as I do that all the men Edith likes are nice enough, but have never entertained an original thought in their heads."

"Surely not our dear cousin though," Mary exclaimed in mock horror. "You know he is Edith's favorite."

Sybil shrugged. "I do like Patrick – he's charming enough for a cousin, I suppose – but you can't deny his greatest attraction is his name and birth."

Mary gave her sister a look of grudging respect as she stood to ring for Anna, ready for a change of outfit. "You know, darling, you're not nearly so nice as people suspect."

"And you're not nearly so rebellious as you pretend. But as Granny says, a lady is a role we must play and we, none of us, are ever truly as we act."

~x*~x~*x~

A/N: Were you disappointed by a lack of sparks between M/M? Don't worry, they'll meet again and tongues will be sharper on that occasion…


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Sorry for the really long wait between updates; life's been…less than ideal. But now that exam season is almost over, I should have time to write again. Btw, in my head-canon, Patrick Crawley is a very pretty boy and bears no resemblance in appearance, tone or carriage to Patrick Gordon and I hope my (very little bit of) description isn't therefore jarring.

Many thanks and virtual scones to all my lovely readers and reviewers! You've really cheered me up when I needed it!

~x*~x~*x~

"I do so love it when you stop speaking as soon as I enter a room," Mary observed a week later as she walked into the sitting room where Cora and Violet had been deep in conversation. She took in their conscious expression and the pointed looks the Dowager kept shooting the Countess. "Ah, I see. I'm due for another lecture."

"It's not another lecture, darling," Cora said with a forced smile, sensing Mary's difficult mood and hoping to head off an explosion before their discussion had even begun. "We've just been discussing your engagement and have a few suggestions for you."

Mary raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Suggestions, is that the new term? That implies I'll have a choice."

"Of course you always have-"

"Sit down, Mary," Violet interrupted in a tone that brooked no disagreement. "You can argue the terminology later; for now, you will hear us out."

Perhaps sensing the futility of further argument, Mary sat, drawing her hands into her lap. "Well, what is it this time?"

"Your granny and I have been talking and we're a little concerned by your lack of enthusiasm for your engagement."

Mary looked affronted. "I've attended all your balls, smiled when you expected, said all the right words…what more do you expect?"

"I'm afraid that's not quite enough, darling."

"What your mother means to say is that while you may have conducted yourself to our expectations in public, you have paid very little attention to your fiancé in private."

"And you are surprised? Everyone knows very well that both Patrick and I are merely doing our duty."

"True though that may be," Cora said, "a soft touch never goes amiss in these situations. It has taken you both a long time to reach this moment and we don't want anything to go awry until you have a ring on your finger."

"Don't worry, nothing will." Mary's tone was derisive. "I'm sure Patrick lacks the imagination to go against years of duty and expectation."

Violet's lip may have twitched slightly – the expression disappeared so quickly, Mary couldn't be sure – but the look she leveled upon her granddaughter was all seriousness. "Patrick is a good enough boy, but he is still a man and men are known to do foolish things. There can be no chance of the fish slipping the hook, my dear, and you must see to it."

"So you expect me to flutter my eyelashes and give coy smiles?"

"I'm sure you of all people can manage to entice a young man without any help from us," Cora said.

"I see." Mary stood up, eyes flashing. "Well, I've heard enough of your _suggestion_ and I won't do it."

"Mary darling, we're only trying to help you. Besides, you and Patrick were such good friends when you were younger, it surely can't be that difficult to express an interest in his favorite topics and pursuits."

"No, Mama. I've done all that can be expected and I refuse to play the fool around Patrick."

Cora opened her mouth to reason again with Mary, but her mother-in-law waved her off. "No, Cora, leave it be. Let Mary think on it. I'm sure she'll come to see sense soon enough."

~x*~x~*x~

It came as no surprise to Mary to discover Patrick seated next to her at dinner two days after. If anything, she was surprised it had taken her mother that long to act. The Countess' lack of subtlety – so typical of an American, Mary thought – might have amused her normally, but for the moment, she could only feel exasperation.

That Patrick looked well, she could not deny. His late mother may have been a silly, shallow woman, but her beauty had been undeniable and Patrick was blessed with both her good looks and her taste for fashion. Examining his strong cheekbones and well-cut jaw, his impeccable suit and elegant cufflinks, Mary could admit that at least his appearance would never give her cause to repine. They would be a beautiful couple, well-matched and fashionable.

And yet, more and more, that didn't seem to be enough. What was missing, she could not say.

So lost in thought she was, she did not attend to most of the dinner conversation until she was recalled by the mention of her name.

"…Mary's settlement," Robert said. "Murray and his assistant should be here tomorrow to review the draft with me."

"I'm so pleased everything is proceeding so smoothly," Cora smiled.

"Yes, quite. His new assistant is doing wonders for Murray's efficiency."

Patrick chose this moment to lean over towards Mary. "And you, are you satisfied with how the engagement is proceeding?" he asked, voice quiet so his question could only be heard by her.

"Of course," Mary said, flashing Patrick her most charming smile. She gazed up at him through her lashes and added flirtatiously, "How could I possibly have any complaints when I've been blessed with a fiancé such as you?"

A look of surprise momentarily crossed Patrick's face, quickly followed by an expression of pleasure, and Mary was pleased to see it. Though she had so vehemently protested against their instructions, Cora and Violet's words had left their mark. She could not deny she had been so accustomed to the idea of Patrick as her fiancé-in-waiting, she had never bothered to subject him to her usual feminine wiles. She still thought the older women's idea ridiculous and yet she had never been able to resist an opportunity to prove the power of her charms and was determined to show them there was no reason to worry over Patrick slipping the hook.

"I'm glad I've given you no reason to repine," Patrick replied, his tone equally flirtatious. "One does not come by a beautiful fiancée every day, so it would not do to lose you now."

She raised her eyebrow in mock dismay. "Is that all I am to you, a beautiful prize? Have I no other attributes to recommend me? You wound me, Cousin."

Patrick laughed. "Far be it for me to call a lady immodest and yet I doubt I truly wound you." The friendly smile he gave her took the sting out of his words.

Mary was surprised how quickly dinner passed after that as she traded meaningless remarks with Patrick. Though the conversation itself was unremarkable, the tenor of their relationship had shifted subtly and, when the ladies withdrew after the meal, she found she was not unhappy with this newfound ease. To own the truth, she even felt slightly pleased as she recalled Patrick's invitation to drive out with him the following afternoon.

~x*~x~*x~

"Mary, you're back," Robert greeted her across the hall as she was crossing to the main staircase. "Did you enjoy your drive?"

Mary paused, one hand skimming the banister, the other lifting her dress slightly and gave her father an unusually genuine smile. "Yes, surprisingly so. The weather was lovely and Patrick's horses are beautiful."

"I'm pleased you seem to be getting on better with their master as well."

This brought a look of embarrassment to his daughter's face before it was hidden behind her usual mask of indifference. Faced with her stubborn refusal to give a response, Robert continued, "Your timing is impeccable as usual, my dear. Murray is here to see me and I thought it would be a good idea to introduce him to you. There may come a time when you need to question him about your settlement and I am no longer here to assist."

"I hope that is a long time in coming," Mary said as she followed her father back across the hall.

"Even so, it never hurts to know a lawyer." Robert waved Mary into the library ahead of him, where two men were waiting for their appearance, one pacing impatiently, the other busily examining the contents of a portfolio on his lap. The former stopped his pacing upon their entrance and Mary took in the short, portly man who had served as her father's lawyer and advisor for many years. She felt no liking for him, but she gave him a warm smile and her hand to shake as her father performed the introduction.

Their actions had drawn the attention of the other man, whom Murray waved forward impatiently to present to his esteemed clients. Mary, concentrating on subtly wiping the hand that had been shaken on the back of her skirt, raised her head just as the second man joined them, in time to captured by his cerulean-eyed gaze.

~x*~x~*x~

A/N: I know there's a lot of Patrick, but this _will_ be an M/M story, I promise. I'm just trying to have it proceed at a realistic pace. Do you think it works or is the pace too slow? All comments very welcome. :)


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: So over-excitable dogs, klutzy little me, and rollerblades are not a good mix, I can assure you now from experience. At least the cute guy who witnessed everything managed not to laugh. The cast finally came off my hand yesterday (yay!) so I celebrated by properly typing up this chapter and even most of the next!

Anyway, onto the story. Matthew starts showing up in this chapter again, though I can't promise it'll be a smooth ride… Still, I hope you enjoy!

Also, thanks for all the wonderful reviews! So much chocolate and love to all of you!

~x*~x~*x~

Only years of training and the still potent memory of the raps on the knuckles her first governess had meted out for any outbursts prevented Mary from exclaiming "You!" and marching back out of the library. Instead she scowled at the young man and Murray and even her father for good measure, though rationally she knew the latter couldn't be blamed for the identity of his lawyer's assistant.

Matthew was less experienced in covering his reaction and it was lucky for him that his gasp was drowned out by Murray's loud introductions.

"This is my new assistant, Matthew Crawley," Murray said, gesturing grandly as if displaying a particularly impressive invention or well-trained pet. "He's been helping me with the more minor points of Lady Mary's settlement papers – not doing the real work, mind you; it's the rare few of us who can be trusted with that – but he's not doing too badly for someone of his youth and inexperience."

This seemingly generous if rather inaccurate assessment of his contributions was lost on Matthew who was now busy staring unblinkingly at Mary, as if she was an apparition and liable to disappear as soon as he closed his eyes.

"Crawley?" Robert exclaimed, oblivious to the tension between the younger occupants of the room. "That's quite a coincidence! Might we be relations?"

The weight of three pairs of eyes regarding him, two in curiosity and one in hostility, recalled Matthew to his surroundings. "I've…I've no idea, my lord. I'm afraid my father was a doctor who had no time for anything non-medical. He never spoke of our family history to me."

In truth, Matthew's mother occasionally mentioned vague aristocratic connections somewhere in their family tree, but Matthew's father was a proud man and had no interest in being the poor cousins of some aristocratic family so he'd never explained the relationship. Reginald's prejudice had passed to his son and when Matthew received this case, he'd felt no curiosity to research any potential connection and wished for no relationship beyond the professional. Now, looking at the dark-haired woman before him, he wondered if he had been a bit hasty in denying the charms of this family.

"It would seem odd to have a cousin who is a doctor, but I suppose we've many relations we've lost track of through the years. Wouldn't it be a nice coincidence, Mary?"

"To have a doctor and a solicitor for cousins? It's the answer to all my dreams, I'm sure."

"Well, I was thinking more that a cousin would be drawing up your settlement papers for your upcoming marriage to another cousin." He gave Matthew a good-natured slap on the back. "Always a pleasure to keep things in the family, wouldn't you say?"

"I fail to see why it matters." Mary's eyes were full of ice and her voice almost dripped with disdain. "I'm sure, if you go back far enough, even the lowliest beggar can trace some relation to the King."

Taken aback by the vehemence of his daughter's response, Robert glanced between her and the young solicitor, feeling uncomfortably like he was missing an important piece of the puzzle. Mary could be cold and judgmental, he knew, but rarely was she so openly and unsubtly rude, at least to anyone other than Edith. What could make her take such a violent dislike to Matthew on their first meeting?

"Well," Robert said after an awkward silence, "it's something to consider another time. Let us get down to the business of the settlement in the meantime."

"I suppose that is my cue to leave." Mary turned an icy smile upon the occupants of the room. "Please excuse me, Mr. Murray, Mr. Crawley. Such an unparalleled pleasure meeting you, I'm sure."

~x*~x~*x~

Matthew settled back into the cushions of his boss's well-upholstered car and allowed the merest hint of a sigh to pass through his lips. Glancing through the narrow window, he confirmed Murray was still busily conferring with Lord Grantham before surreptitiously rolling his shoulders and neck, trying to alleviate the pressure that was building inside his head.

He raised a hand to his temple, tracing over the point where a hammer was pounding away, the pain radiating outward to stop right behind his eye. He'd never been prone to headaches, yet this was his second of the week, and both at the hands of an arrogant and rude lady with more inbreeding than sense.

What right did she have to behave so rudely towards him in front of his boss and their client? Why must she still hold a grudge over a few poorly chosen words when he had apologized so quickly that evening? A man would have graciously forgiven him already. A man might even have laughed with him and exchanged a few drinks.

And a man would have the decency to not intrigue him so completely, the decency to leave his thoughts and fantasies alone.

"I hope you took down all their instructions in your notes," Murray interrupted Matthew's frustrated musings as he hauled himself into the car.

"I have."

Murray grunted. "Better have. The daughter might be a sharp-tongued shrew," – here a well-timed pothole knocked Murray's head against the window and saved Matthew from the urge to do so himself – "but his Lordship certainly makes it worth the trouble." He leaned back into his seat and laced his fingers together over his protruding stomach. "You'll learn, my boy, that the trick to being a good solicitor is to find the right cases…and wallets. Though you may have an advantage already, eh?"

With some effort, Matthew managed to maintain a neutral expression and even voice. "I doubt it, but I appreciate the invaluable advice, sir."

The older man narrowed his eyes suspiciously, before giving another shrug and a grunt.

Shortly after, the car lurched to a stop before a fine brick building and Matthew clambered out quickly, for once not bothering to wait for Murray to exit first. He was eager to deposit his files at his desk and find a public house for an early dinner, hoping that a drink might clear away the fog in his head.

"That's right, m'lad," Murray called from behind him and Matthew turned slowly to find Murray with his face partially wedged through the car window. "Get back to work. I've a dinner to attend tonight, but you better have the document on my desk by tomorrow morning. Wouldn't do to keep Lord Grantham waiting, oh no. We've got a reputation to maintain with the man."

The car drove off before Matthew could reply and he was left breathing in exhaust fumes and cursing demanding bosses and distracting ladies who would combine for a long night ahead.

But then, as he trudged slowly inside, he realized he had forgiven one of the two already.

~x*~x~*x~

Once might be called an accident, twice bad luck, but three times could only be considered a curse, Mary thought, staring in disbelief at the figure approaching her. She glanced around, taking in the hedge to her left, the cluster of trees in the distance and, with great reluctance, ruled out plunging into the shrubbery as a means of escape.

A giggle from behind her indicated Sybil's location and the reason for Mary's presence in the park. She chanced a quick glance over her shoulder, relieved to observe Sybil still fully occupied feeding the ducks – a rather unladylike interest of the younger girl since childhood – and too distracted to pay heed to a potentially awkward encounter. It only remained for Mary to bravely face her fate.

He came to a stop before her and removed his hat, twisting it in his hands. Annoyed as she was by his presence, she made no attempt to break the silence, instead turning her head slightly and pretending to be fascinated by the white flowers on the bushes, all the while watching him out of the corner of her eye.

"You will think me very forward," he said at last, "but I'd hoped you would give me the opportunity to speak with you once more."

She refused to turn her head and so addressed her remarks to the shrubbery. "You hardly give me a choice, do you now?"

"I was afraid if I asked you would deny me the right."

"Given our charming topic of conversation before, perhaps you could imagine why I might."

A slight flush overspread Matthew's cheeks and made him look more boyish than ever. "I know I was rude-"

"Finally a point on which we can agree," she murmured.

He winced but ploughed on gamely. "I was rude, but I didn't know who you were or that you were engaged to be married. I never would have made the comment had I known. Believe me, I now sincerely regret what I…er…implied."

Now she faced him, eyes flashing. "I am _so_ sorry you did not know of my engagement that night and therefore had no choice but to insult me. Perhaps I should have my forehead branded with the information in the future so I can save you the trouble."

His eyes widened in surprise and not a little alarm. "No, that's not what I meant to imply! I don't think your engagement has made you any more respectable- that is, I'm sure your fiancé had no bearing on your intentions that night- that is… I don't mean…you must understand…"

Matthew trailed off in confusion and lowered his eyes to study the grass at his feet. He was not quite sure _how_ he had managed it but he had somehow made the situation worse. It had seemed like a serendipitous moment when he'd spotted her across the park earlier (how he had been able to recognize her so easily, he did not want to contemplate). He'd been pleased at this opportunity to speak to her alone, to apologize and perhaps say a few charming words, but a few minutes in her presence and he seemed to have turned into a blithering idiot. And he who'd always prided himself on his composure and competence with words! The birds themselves seemed to be mocking him now, laughing at him with their cheerful song.

Surprisingly, she made no retort and after enduring several long moments of embarrassment, Matthew finally looked back at Mary. She was regarding him with frank amusement, one eyebrow raised mockingly, obviously enjoying his discomfort. He suddenly felt irrationally defensive.

"Well, given the venue, what was I to think? Surely it is not the sort of place a respectable lady would visit without escort." As soon as the words slipped out, he wished to recall them for how offensive and childish they sounded.

Her expression hardened. "I need not justify myself to you, Mr. Crawley." She gathered her skirts and made as if to walk away.

Despite the unparalleled disaster that characterized their conversation thus far, he seemed to wish for it to continue and found himself saying hastily, "Have you been in London long?"

Mary regarded him, curious at this sudden change of topic, but Matthew's aim was achieved as she remained in place. "Since the beginning of the season," she said, purposely refusing to be more specific and wondering whether this middle class solicitor even knew when the season started.

"Will you remain here much longer?"

"We will see out the season, of course. My plans beyond that remain uncertain."

"Do you stop in London often?"

"To what purpose do your questions tend, Mr. Crawley?" Mary asked, now impatient. "If you are concerned about the length of our presence and how it affects the legal documents you're drafting, you must apply to Lord Grantham on that front."

"Oh no, not at all," Matthew said. "I'm just new to London – I've always lived in Manchester previously, you know – and I imagine you must be an expert on all the attractions of my new home city."

"You appear to have located the music hall with no trouble," Mary observed dryly, "even if you did misplace your manners along the way."

"I have many more interests than just music," Matthew replied, brushing aside her reference to his manners quickly in hopes of avoiding being bogged down on that subject again. "I quite enjoy the parks, for example. Do you walk here often?"

Mary lifted one shoulder in a movement that would have been termed a shrug on another woman with less regal bearing. "The London parks are nothing to the lands around Downton, but I do frequent a few at the appropriate hours. It is rather a function of the season to see and be seen."

"Do you like churches then?" Matthew's eagerness was undimmed despite his companion's lazy tone. "I am quite fascinated by their architecture. London has some awe-inspiring specimens, though I think I prefer the histories and peacefulness of small country churches."

"My sister Edith is the one with an interest in churches. You could inquire with her if you are looking to be bored for hours."

"If it is not parks and churches, where do your interests lie?"

"I ride. Or I read," Mary said shortly before leveling a haughty look towards Matthew. "Your questions are becoming overly familiar for an indifferent stranger, Mr. Crawley. My father may hope you are a distant cousin, but I certainly do not."

"I'm not attempting to claim cousin status and I will retreat whenever you wish," Matthew hurried to assure her. "I merely hoped to be friendly in discovering our common interests."

"We are not friends. And more importantly, I am sure we have nothing in common."

Further conversation was interrupted by footsteps sounding behind Mary. Startled, she spun around to see Sybil coming up, eying Matthew with frank curiosity. She turned back to her companion.

"Be so kind as to make good on your word now," she said.

It took Matthew a moment to realize what she meant and then he replaced his hat, bowed slightly and turned to walk away. He had taken several steps away when he suddenly turned back again. There was a moment of hesitation and then he called out, "My congratulations on your engagement, Lady Mary."

He was retreating again before she could respond.

"Who was that?" Sybil asked as she drew up beside Mary.

"Papa's solicitor," Mary said, her eyes still following the retreating form.

"Papa's solicitor! Is everything alright?"

"Of course. Why should it not be?"

"It's just…" Sybil hesitated, studying Mary carefully and weighing her words. "You seemed rather occupied with your conversation."

Mary shrugged dismissively. "You heard the most memorable thing he said." She lifted up her parasol and began to weave their way towards the park exit. "Now, darling, how were your ducks today?"

~x*~x~*x~

A/N: Poor Matthew. He can't resist Mary, but she's not very nice to him, is she? Believe me, I already restrained her in this chapter. If I let her have her way, she would have been much meaner. But things can only get better from here, right? ;)

So any hopes for what happens next for our favourite couple?


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: A lot has changed in my life since I last updated: I moved internationally – so no, I haven't been able to see s3 yet – and had a nasty breakup with my boyfriend (probably my fault – I introduced him to DA and he learned to channel him some s2 Robert). I'm back home for a few days and found a few unposted chapters of this story while sorting out my old computer, so I thought I'd post them, especially since I figured out how to get past the point that had me stuck when I was writing this. I hope I'll keep going with this, but given my track record, I don't think I should make promises.

Strawberries with clotted cream to all my readers and reviewers. You've all been lovely and I only wish I were the better writer you surely deserve.

~x*~x~*x~

The next few days passed pleasantly. Mary rode in Hyde Park, sometimes on her horse and sometimes in an open carriage, but always in company with Patrick who had taken over the duty to provide her escort, leaving her father to accompany only Edith. At times, when he expertly wove through the crowded traffic or stopped to greet an acquaintance and left her free to admire the cut of his shoulders and his excellent seat, Mary could almost fancy herself agreeably inclined towards this cousin. Love might be out of the question – such an impractical notion, love – but she was surprised to discover how much she began to actually _like_ Patrick now that she conversed with him instead of treating him as a convenient prop.

She hated to admit it, but maybe Edith had seen things more clearly (on this one matter only, of course).

So, all things considered, Mary could and should have been satisfied with her situation if she were made for easy satisfaction. But Mary as she was found herself bored when Patrick began on his favorite topics and annoyed when he simply agreed with her on hers. As a side effect of her engagement, more than once she found herself wondering about the country's education system, when a man with so many advantages as her cousin could have such limited conversational abilities. In her more generous moments, she acknowledged that Patrick wasn't unintelligent, merely that his interests had little breadth and even less depth. But even in those generous moments, she could not deny wishing for a fiancé who could provide her with a good argument on occasion or any sort of challenge really.

But then, as many would tell her, a countess' coronet was worth many sacrifices.

~x*~x~*x~

One of the more pleasant side effects to her engagement were the invitations pouring in for Mary from all quarters. Now that she was removed as a competitor in the husband stakes and with her status cemented as a future countess, Mary found herself a most sought after guest. Many of the mothers and even some of the young ladies themselves couldn't remember a time they had ever disliked Lady Mary Crawley as she really was quite sweet, well-dressed and even a bit pretty as well.

And if Edith's crestfallen expression each morning, when the cards were brought in and Mary's pile far exceeded her own, ever bothered the older sister, well, Mary certainly hid it well.

As a result, Mary found herself busy most afternoons, even more so than during her debutante year. Her evenings as well were filled with dinner invitations, theatre outings, and balls, and Patrick, who had turned into a most devoted escort, could often be found arriving at or leaving Grantham House to accompany the family to their appointments. So often were the engaged couple seen in company that bets were placed at various clubs on how soon their wedding date would come around.

"You needn't fear leaving me unattended," Mary observed to Patrick one such evening as they stood together between dances. "I'm sure you've many acquaintances you wish to converse with."

In such a public room it was as close as she dared to come to a dismissal and she hoped Patrick would take the hint. Though his attentions were flattering, few other men dared approach her whilst her fiancé was present and Mary found herself rapidly tiring of their monotonous conversation and the lack of broader male company. Where was the joy to be had in youth and beauty without a gaggle of devoted swains?

Unfortunately, luck was not with her. "I couldn't leave such a lovely lady unguarded," Patrick protested.

"You believe I'm in some danger?" she asked wryly.

"I have seen the way the Duke of Crowborough looks at you."

Mary gestured around at the many older ladies crowding the walls, including several with their eyes rapidly darting away from hers when she caught them in her sweep of the room. "With fifty chaperones lurking behind every chair and curtain, I hardly think you need to worry," she observed.

Patrick nodded good-naturedly, an impish smile slowly creeping upon his face. "Your logic has found me out. I suppose I owe you the truth." He made a show of looking around carefully before leaning in conspiratorially. "I may pretend chivalry, but I actually have a more selfish reason."

She raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Do tell."

"I may claim to be guarding you, but in truth, I am hiding behind _your _skirts. You see, Mary, I need your protection from the likes of Lady Honoria." He gave an exaggerated shudder. "Do you not see the danger I'm in?"

She was surprised by such an answer, especially from a man she had often considered dull and humorless and Mary found herself laughing in reply. He grinned as well, pleased with his success, and waved down a passing footman to obtain glasses of wine for the two of them. Around them, heads turned at Mary's laugh and those amiably inclined towards the pair smiled to see them getting on so well, much better than most had expected.

Across the room, the object of their discussion was also engaged in conversation, if her disjointed exchange could be termed as much.

"He's been ever so attentive to her," Honoria observed bitterly while glaring across at the bright-faced Mary.

"Oh, look, Mr. Parkinson just arrived," her companion replied. "Doesn't he look divine in that new jacket?"

But Honoria was not to be distracted by some Mr. Parkinson, however heavenly his appearance. "It must be her father's doing," she continued, "somehow forcing him to behave thus."

"Then again, he looks divine in everything."

"They're cousins so he must know her too well to be taken in by her superficial charms."

"And his friend is no slouch either in the appearance department."

"All simply can't be as it seems."

"You're becoming unforgivably tedious with that topic," the friend complained. "Can we not discuss something more interesting for a change?"

Her entreaties went unheard. "There must be more to their sudden friendliness, I just know it."

"Really, Honoria, what is it to you? I know you have some grudge against Lady Mary-"

"Grudge? You think I hold just a grudge? Have you forgotten what she did to me in my first season? For months, everyone mocked me about Mr. Winterbourne-"

"Not so loudly!" her friend hissed, looking around nervously. "Are you trying to have everyone remember? Besides, be that as it may, Mr. Crawley has been a model fiancé all season and you don't even like him. Be sensible now and cut your losses."

But Honoria's sense could not be found or was not to be appealed to. She shook her head and turned a resolute eye upon her friend. "Mark my words, the only one who will be losing in the end will be her."

~x*~x~*x~

"That's a brilliant solution!" Robert enthused. "I don't know what we ever did before you came aboard, Matthew."

Mary's attention was caught by the name as she walked down their front hall, enjoying a rare moment of afternoon solitude. After a moment's struggle with herself, she tiptoed closer and pressed her eye to the crack in the door. It took her a second to adjust to the darkness of the library interior and then she made out two figures, her father pressing a glass of brandy upon his blond-haired companion.

It was _him_, that was clear, but what he doing at her home? She had thought their connection at an end with her settlement finalized earlier in the week, but now it appeared he was doing other work for her father. She was disgusted with this discovery and even more so with herself for caring.

"What did you say your father's name was? Reginald?" At Matthew's answering nod, Robert continued, "He would be quite proud of you. I must take a look in our family tree to see if he is any relation."

"Oh, that's not necessary, I'm sure-" Matthew said, looking abashed, but Robert waved away his protests.

"It's no trouble. And wouldn't you want to find out?"

"Yes, of course," Matthew agreed, knowing to say otherwise would offend his host – and in truth he _was _a bit curious – "but I wouldn't want to seem to be taking advantage."

"Nonsense," Robert said, refilling Matthew's glass and pressing it back into his hand. "Why would anyone suspect that?"

Matthew didn't look convinced by this answer, but like a good lawyer, he knew when he was beaten for the day and so opted to stand silently, sipping his drink. He didn't want to think about it too closely, but he had a suspicion that his hesitation had to do with images of a pair of dark eyes upbraiding him for the presumption to claim a connection to her family even if, in fairness, it was all outside his control.

Robert was the first to break the silence. "Really Matthew, I do appreciate having someone intelligent and enthusiastic with whom to discuss estate affairs. Patrick tries, but takes such simplistic views and James…well, the less said about that the better."

"But your daughters-" Matthew began hesitantly, but stopped as he saw the indulgent bemusement on Robert's face.

"Oh, they may take an interest occasionally, but they're women," the older man pronounced dismissively, not realizing one of those women was listening to his conversation. "You can't expect them to actually understand much." His lowered his gaze and confessed to the swirling liquid within his glass, "I would never tell my beloved daughters this, but I still wish every day I might have had a son."

The voices continued on but Mary had already left her post, shaking with anger and resentment and not taking trouble to be silent upon her retreat.

~x*~x~*x~

One unusually warm afternoon, after they had watched several acquaintances engage in a round of lawn tennis, Patrick followed Mary into Grantham House instead of parting at the door as usual. Carson greeted them, but before a confused Mary could order tea and refreshments, Patrick waved away the butler and guided Mary into a rarely used drawing room.

"What are-" Mary began asking as the door closed behind them, but stopped as Patrick turned towards her, reached inside his jacket and pulled out a thin black box. Wordlessly he handed it to her and equally silently she opened it.

Inside, nestled on soft bed of dark velvet lay a vibrant ruby solitaire pendant. Mary gently lifted the pale gold chain to which it was attached and watched the ruby glitter as it encountered a shaft of light. She thought she recognized the gemstone and the meaning behind the gift, and in that moment, she felt the truth of her engagement more than she had at any other.

"Is it…?" she asked, turning her eyes upon Patrick who had been watching her intently.

He stuffed his hands in his pocket, a habit she recognized from his youth that she thought he had put behind him and cleared his throat, looking at her almost shyly. "It was my mother's," he confirmed, "though I had it reset for you. They're not rubies worthy of a countess – one day you'll have finer – but they were an early gift from my father to my mother. I remember her wearing them when I was young and I want you to have it to mark our engagement."

Her voice was as soft and warm as the hand she laid upon his arm. "Thank you," she said and there was only sincerity in her tone. "I will treasure them."

And then, without either of them quite knowing how it happened, his lips were upon hers and he was kissing her for the first time. Mary noticed the rapidity of his heart, the way his hand pressed against the small of her back, the sunlight turning a lock of his brown hair almost a burnished gold before she came to her senses and drew back.

They stared at each other, wide-eyed. Then, after what seemed an eternity of awkward silence, Patrick reached forward, lifted her hand and placed a kiss upon it and withdrew.

Left alone, Mary sagged against the wall as she waited for the rumble of Carson's deep voice and the click of the front door. She tried to make sense of what had happened but her thoughts remained frustratingly jumbled. He had every right, it was just a matter of time, she should only be surprised it hadn't happened earlier. And it hadn't been unpleasant really – his lips were soft and his caress gentle – but she was still discomfited. She had no expectation of pleasure, but she had expected something, some fluttering or faintness or thrill and instead to feel so…blank and empty and untouched, was that what she had a lifetime to look forward to?

Was this it?

Hearing Carson's heavy tread back down the hall and so assured of her fiancé's departure, and feeling unable to face any of her family as she was, Mary fled her way upstairs.

She rang for Anna as soon as she gained her room, intending to ask the maid to put the rubies amongst her other jewels and out of her sight, but could not stop herself from opening the box one more time and picking up the necklace to finger the cool stone. As she did so, she loosened the velvet cloth and a small piece of paper slipped out. She picked it up curiously.

It read quite simply.

_To MC: For her price is far above rubies._

~x*~x~*x~

A/N: Next chapter, the Crawleys have Matthew for dinner and that's only the first course…


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: For once, I am updating without a _ridiculously_ long wait. So many thanks to every person who has read, followed, or favourited this story. And special thanks plus blueberry muffins to the lovely reviewers – I do adore you all.

Hope you enjoy the story!

~x*~x~*x~

"Do you know anything about Matthew Crawley?"

Mary paused in the middle of straightening her gloves to look over her shoulder at Cora in surprise. "Matthew Crawley?"

"Yes, one of our family solicitors, I gather. Your father said you met him once."

"Oh yes," Mary confirmed, returning to the inspection of her gloves. "I met him when he came to discuss my settlement along with Papa's solicitor."

She was careful to maintain an air of disinterest as she gave her answer. Cora, sitting casually on a chair next to her bed, looked and sounded innocent enough, but Mary knew how much Robert confided in his wife and was alert to the possibility the Countess was now fishing for information, trying to discover the reason behind her rude behavior towards Matthew in the library the previous week. She was not ashamed of her words – he had deserved her coldness and more – but she had no desire to explain the circumstances to her mother.

"What was he like?" Cora persisted.

"A bit forward and rather full of himself, I suppose." Unable to restrain her own curiosity and hoping she sounded casual enough, Mary added, "Why do you ask?"

It was Cora's turn to look surprised. "Surely you haven't forgotten that he's to join us for dinner tonight."

"Dinner? Tonight?" Mary, who had by now returned to her vanity to examine her appearance critically, paused in playing with her necklace to raise her eyebrows at Cora through the mirror. "No, I didn't know he was to join us. I thought it was just the family tonight."

"Your father insisted on the invitation and I thought a private dinner the safest occasion. Of course, he barely even told me anything about our expected guest." Cora's tone was petulant and when Mary looked more closely, she could see faint lines of frustration gracing the Countess' brow, disrupting her usual determined positivity. Though Mary sympathized with her mother, she was relieved that Cora seemed only to be seeking information on Matthew and had been spared the tale of their interaction.

"Why _did_ Papa invite him?" she asked, suddenly curious.

"He's convinced Matthew Crawley is some cousin of ours, though I fail to see why that means we should recognize him socially. Can you imagine what your grandmother would say?"

Mary smirked. "Surely Granny will understand. Isn't she always saying men are liable to do foolish things?"

But Cora refused to be amused. "She won't see it like that. She'll see the American interloper allowing some middle-class solicitor to grace our table – and during the height of the season!"

Mary wondered if she should be concerned at her mother's unusual concern for her grandmother's opinion – Cora who usually bore Violet's opinions with exasperated amusement - but flippancy was easier than sympathy and she settled for the simpler option.

"If Granny can survive dining with a foreigner at the table, surely she can survive us breaking bread with a solicitor."

"But at least Mr. Pamuk had such perfect manners."

"Yes, _lovely_ manners" Mary agreed, a bit sardonic as she recalled one instance that evening just a week prior when the Turkish delegate's manners had not quite merited the term "perfect." Never had she been so eager to return to a drawing room and to submit to the protective company of her fiancé.

Cora sighed and glanced at the door. "Well, there is nothing to be done but to go down and greet our guest."

Mary, her amusement chased away by the mention of that Turkish diplomat, agreed with more than her usual speed. "Yes, let's go discover whether our supposed cousin knows how to hold his knife like a gentleman."

~x*~x~*x~

Despite Cora's fears, the evening passed pleasantly and Matthew gave his hosts no occasion to feel embarrassed for his presence. When Cora and Mary arrived in the drawing room, they found him already in conversation with Violet, discussing the merits of Gustav Klimt's recent art exhibit while Robert looked on in bemusement. The ladies barely had occasion to welcome their guest before Patrick, who had taken to dining with the family most evenings, arrived and greeted this new cousin with affability.

Patrick's arrival signaled their entry to the dining room, where Mary found herself seated between her two cousins, presumably because she was a familiar face to Matthew. Given the terms of their last parting, Mary was relieved when Cora, sitting on Matthew's other side, took the first shift in entertaining their guest.

"After the crush and noise of recent evenings, does it not feel strange to sit down with such a small circle tonight?" Mary observed to Patrick over their opening course.

Patrick laughed. "I cannot remember the last time I spent a season so well feted and dined."

"Perhaps we should get engaged every year."

"Coupled with the lack of sport, I'm not sure my figure could stand it. You'll be ashamed to appear with me and we can't have that." His voice deepened slightly as he leaned towards her. "You look beautiful tonight, Mary, and I think you always will."

Mary stared at him, frozen as he reached toward her, seemingly forgetting where they were, to trace her collarbone lightly. "The necklace, it suits you."

She tried not to fidget under his touch as she regretted the impulse that made her choose the ruby pendant that evening. "Your parents had good taste. The necklace is beautiful." Her voice at least, she was pleased to discover, remained steady and unaffected.

"No," he said softly, "I disagree. It is the wearer who makes it beautiful."

Mary lowered her gaze demurely in reply, because it was the proper response she'd been taught and because she was could not meet Patrick's eyes and the genuine regard that seemed to be lurking there more and more lately. It had all been very well to flirt with him to prove her wiles to her mother and grandmother, but she had not really expected Patrick to move beyond seeing their arrangement as more than a duty. Sure, she was liking her fiancé more and more recently, but she was also beginning to feel trapped beneath the weight of their unequal affections.

"How is Jupiter recovering from his injury?" Mary asked after a brief pause, hoping to distract Patrick with his favorite talk of horses.

She was not disappointed. Retreating to a more respectable distance, he launched into an enthusiastic discussion of his groom's efforts to dress the stallion's lacerations and prevent infection before reminiscing about the day his horse had been born, when he had watched the little foal enter the world and first stretch his legs. Mary attempted to feign interest, but it was not long before she found herself attempting to eavesdrop on the conversation to her other side. She could only make out the occasional phrase – something about a labor agreement he had negotiated, was it? – but whatever the subject, Cora certainly seemed captivated. Given his success with both her grandmother and mother, Mary had to concede that this strange cousin of theirs appeared a better conversationalist than she would ever have anticipated.

Listening to her mother's rippling laugh and observing the way Violet glanced at him, not entirely with approval but certainly without disapproval, Mary began to wonder if perhaps she had been too harsh in her prior treatment of their guest. There was no denying Matthew had been insulting on their first meeting, but to his credit, he had apologized on two occasions and perhaps had earned a measure of goodwill from her, at least amongst company.

"You'll need a horse to ride after our marriage, won't you, Mary?"

Patrick's eager question recalled her to their conversation and she hastily agreed, hoping her abstraction had passed unnoticed.

He smiled. "I must buy one for you as you must want for nothing as my future wife. What type of horse would suit?"

Mary shrugged, disinterested though the topic concerned her future. "I defer to your superior knowledge on this subject."

That was all the encouragement Patrick required as he launched into a spirited debate with himself about the various foals up for sale at Tattersall's while Mary tried to take small sips of wine and wondered if the kitchen were being especially slow that evening. She was rescued shortly thereafter when the Countess turned, requiring Mary to finally converse with Matthew.

"Your cook is very talented," Matthew began hesitantly, searching for a suitable topic of conversation. He glanced across the table to find Edith staring fixedly at him and turned quickly back towards Mary. "And your family, they have been very kind in their welcome."

"Edith seems quite taken with you," Mary said dryly, having followed Matthew's gaze.

"I think she was appalled to discover I haven't seen the London landmarks and offered to act as my tour guide."

"And did you agree?"

"I'm afraid that my position as a recently hired solicitor rather limits my leisure time."

"How unfortunate," Mary murmured, hiding a smirk behind her glass. Leaning closer to him, she dropped her voice conspiratorially. "You do seem to have the family charmed. But be careful of Granny, she can turn dangerous at any moment."

"I do not doubt it," Matthew agreed. "She does not seem someone who is accustomed to disagreement or disappointment."

"People are rarely foolish enough to oppose Granny for long, or they may not live to regret it."

"She sounds rather like my mother. If we ever desired entertainment, I should introduce them, but I'm afraid London would not be left standing long afterwards."

Mary raised an eyebrow, but made no comment, not wanting to appear to interested in Matthew's family.

After a pause, Matthew began again, "So Lady Mary Crawley, what do you do for entertainment? Other than visiting music halls unaccompanied, that is?" As soon as the words slipped out, Matthew wished he had bitten his own tongue off – how could he have tripped up on the same topic yet again? – but the words were out already and there was no way he could call them back.

Beside him, Mary stiffened and glanced quickly around the table to ascertain they were unobserved before leaning forward to hiss, "Do not breathe a word about that…event to my family."

Matthew fought down the urge to raise his hands appeasingly in the face of her fierce glare. "I will not, you have my word," he said hurriedly.

"I hope you remember that promise," Mary returned sharply, though her glare had softened a bit at Matthew's quick agreement. "If you forget, I shall tell Edith you wish to tour every art gallery and church between here and York but were too diffident to ask her to act as your guide."

Matthew's lips quirked at the threat and he glanced curiously at Edith before returning his attention to Mary. "So what is it that you do with your days?"

"You did not hesitate to draw conclusions about me previously, so surely you've already determined what my interests must be." Mary's teasing tone took some sting from her words and Matthew found himself smiling at the challenge.

"You play the piano," he ventured.

"That would be Edith. Her tuneless playing and endless boasting were quite enough to turn the other Crawley sisters off the piano." She paused, then added, "Our music master was only the first man Edith frightened away with her zeal."

Matthew wasn't sure whether to laugh or look reproving and covered his indecision by asking hastily, "Then…do you paint?"

"Only indifferently. My governess said I lacked the artistic temperament as I never stood at my easel long enough when we went to the lawn to paint."

"Well then, you must sew," he said, attempting to look serious but unable to hide a mischievous sparkle in his eyes. "I am certain you obtain much enjoyment from sitting for hours and making impossibly fine stiches just to embroider one perfect rose."

Mary rolled her eyes. "Your ability to guess my hobbies is truly atrocious, Mr. Crawley."

"Perhaps then I should stop guessing and stick to what I know. You ride, I remember."

"I do ride, but the less said on the subject for the moment, the better."

Matthew nodded agreeably. "I only have the most superficial knowledge of horses, so that is no imposition for me. I believe you also said you read to pass the time?"

"In truth, I read more than I sew or paint or do anything else we ladies pretend to enjoy."

"Novels, I suppose, or do you enjoy poetry instead?"

"You really have a poor understanding of my interests, Mr. Crawley. I've actually been studying the Greek myths – the story of Idas and Marpessa in fact. Do you know it?"

"I might."

"Her father was King Evenus and she was sought by many princes until her hand and heart were won by Idas, prince of Messenia. But Apollo had seen her too and wanted her for his bride and pursued the happy lovers. He challenged Idas to a duel and planned to use his infallible arrows while Idas only had his sword."

"But Apollo didn't win her, did he?"

"No. Just when it seemed Apollo would prevail in an unequal fight, Zeus intervened and said Marpessa must decide."

"So she chose Idas."

Mary nodded. "Yes, Idas, a mortal man who loved her and whom she loved, over life on Olympus with a God who admired only her ephemeral beauty."

"What other myths have you read recently?" Matthew asked, not caring for the answer as much as the mesmerizing light in Mary's eyes as she told the story.

Mary lost track of the passing courses after that, distracted as she was by her competition with Matthew to name ever more obscure myths, and was surprised when her mother gestured for the ladies to remove to the drawing room. Matthew, occupied momentarily with helping Cora from her seat, turned in time to capture Mary's wrist as she walked past him.

"Thank you for the conversation at dinner," he said, looking at her intently and unconsciously squeezing the hand within his grasp. "I know I have behaved as foolishly as the Greek gods we were mocking, but might you forgive me my folly and start our acquaintance over?"

"Perhaps," Mary said and turned for the door. She paused a few steps later to look at Matthew over her shoulder. "If you return another evening, you may discover the answer."

For a moment he thought she smiled at him, but before he could look more closely, she had glided out of the door.

~x*~x~*x~

"Whatever do you think you're doing?"

"We never did have the opportunity to finish our conversation the other day, did we?"

"You forget yourself. There was no conversation to be finished."

"Now, now, we both know that is not true. You were quite eager that evening."

Matthew had been walking through the park, trying to shake the memory of a pair of challenging dark eyes that had been distracting his work yet again, when his attention was attracted by the hissing conversation from the nearby path. The woman's voice in particular drew his notice with its familiarity, but surely it couldn't be her. Why would someone be threatening her in the middle of a park and, by the accent, a foreigner at it? The only explanation must be that his mind had taken to conjuring her presence everywhere. And yet, whether it was her or not, he could not leave the scene without assuring the woman's safety.

The woman's voice rose angrily as he drew nearer. "I don't know who you think you are, but I suggest you let me go."

"Come now, Lady Mary, don't be shy and create a scene."

"I said-" Mary began before another voice cut across her protests.

"The lady said to let her go."

~x*~x~*x~

A/N: What did you think of Mary and Matthew's conversation at dinner? She's warming up to him, but are things progressing too fast or too slow?

On a side note, I've finally seen some spoilers for s3 and…wow.


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